Seeking Solace
by EvanescingSky
Summary: Belarus has been crushed by Russia's rejection yet again. As she broods on a way to get him back, the rest of the household harbors dark secrets. Ukraine is constantly in tears, Estonia seems strangely jumpy and Latvia just keeps his eyes down.
1. The Morning After

Here it is! I've conceeded to make "Russia's Birthday Present" a multi-chapter fanfic, mostly because I want to explore Dark!Hetalia, and who better to do it with than the Soviets, da? Please comment and tell me what you think! Your opinion does count! I may take ideas into account!

The first part of this story can be found on my profile.

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><p>The first thing Russia was aware of was the pounding, throbbing, aching, clawing, biting, searing pain in his temples. It felt like someone was pounding on them with tiny hammers. The next thing was that the sheets seemed much thinner and colder than usual. He half-opened one eye and flinched. The unadulterated light floating through the dirty window burned his eye, but he forced himself to open them up anyway. He groaned, rubbing his sore head and looked around. He didn't recognize where he was, which left a sense of dread and unease in his gut. He saw his clothes scattered over the wooden floorboards and reached for his scarf, swiftly tying it about his neck. When turned his lavender gaze to his side, he gasped and jerked away so violently he tumbled off the bed. He immediately set about grabbing his clothes and pulling them on so fast he tripped over his pant leg and hit the floor hard.<p>

Belarus murmured in her sleep and blinked her eyes open, still befuddled with sleep. To Russia's horror, she sat up, but held the sheet loosely against her chest. He was still seeing more skin on his sister than he had ever wanted to see.

"What is it, brother?" she asked, rubbing one eye with the heel of her hand.

"Y-y-y-you…I-I-we…" For what may have been the first time in his life, Russia was unable to form a complete thought. He silenced his stammering tongue and tried again. "Natalia…we…what happened last night?"

"Don't you remember?" Belarus asked cautiously. Her heart sank; If Ivan forgot what had happened, the whole thing was wasted! But she'd known that would be a risk when she did it.

Russia screwed up his face in concentration. "I remember going to the nightclub…and drinking with you…and dancing…there was something else…two men…"

"You saved me," Belarus said emphatically. "They wanted me, but you chased them off." She watched Russia with alert, sharp eyes, all the blurriness from sleep gone.

"Yes…I remember that. And…then…you…kissed me," he choked out, his pale cheeks flushing. Belarus saw that blush and barely stopped herself from leaping across the small bed and latching onto Russia's mouth with her own. It filled her with an exhilaration that only Ivan gave her.

"And you kissed me back," she pointed out. "You said…" For a moment, Belarus realized she couldn't remember exactly what Russia had said. So she lied. "You said you loved me."

"And then…I don't remember anymore," Russia lied back. The images were coming back in shattered pieces, like a stained glass window. Images he didn't want to be seeing of his baby sister. Hot, heavy panting, steam clouds billowing in the night air, the soft curves of Natalia's slender frame beneath his hands and hips…Russia tried to block the memories, but they kept bouncing around in his head with a fascinated kind of horror. He'd really done it then. He'd slept with his sister.

"Me neither," Belarus said swiftly. "Maybe someone spiked our drinks." As soon as she said it, she could kick herself. The words had tumbled out, sounding like a good idea: give him the right idea, but lead the suspicion away from herself. But why would she think of it so quickly? She fixed her burning gaze on Ivan, waiting for his response.

Russia looked like he was desperately trying to make sense of what was true and what was imagined.

"Natalia…do you remember…seeing General Winter last night?" he ventured. Some of the things that were re-appearing in his reachable memory didn't make the slightest sense.

She shook her head. "But…I saw…a pixie. And a faun," she admitted warily.

"A faun?" Russia's confusion only grew with the more they put together. "Did you ever see…fish? In the room with us?"

Belarus shook her head. "But I thought it was snowing once."

"We must have been hallucinating," Russia decided. Belarus nodded eagerly in agreement. "But why?" he continued, much to her dread. He mused on this for a moment. "Someone drugged us, you think? By why, da? No one there even knew us…" A thought was spreading across his face, slow, like the sunrise, but it made a tight, icy fist close around Belarus's heart. His gentle eyes, which Belarus adored so much, widened in horror and he scrambled backwards on the floor, staring at her as though she'd sprouted demon horns and wings. "You!" he gasped wildly. "You did this!" He gaped for words, unable to find any for a moment. "Belarus, how could you? You did this, didn't you?" His tone demanded an answer.

Belarus hesitated. But she couldn't lie to Ivan, not when he looked at her like that. He looked…injured. "I did," she whispered.

Russia felt like he'd been stabbed in the back by his own sibling. How could she? How could she have done something like this? He felt sick to his stomach with her betrayal. He turned away from her and was violently sick on the floor. There was little in his stomach; it was mostly bile, which burned his throat on its way back up. His heart throbbed; he may have found Belarus a tad creepy and odd, but he had always trusted her with his life. This was almost more than he could handle, on top of the massive hangover he was experiencing.

"Ivan!" Belarus threw herself off the bed, hurrying to her brother's side, but Russia threw up a hand, grasping both of her wrists in one of his large hands, throwing her aggressively back against the bedframe. She let out a sharp intake of breath as the cold sharpness struck her back.

"Clothe yourself, sister," Russia growled. "I have no wish to see your body."

Belarus flinched away from his harsh words. She sat limply on the floor for a moment as Ivan rose unsteadily to his feet, buttoning up his coat. She realized he was going to leave and jerked her undergarments and dress on as fast as she could.

"Ivan, wait!" she cried as he kicked the door open, storming down the stairs. She grabbed her stockings, shoes and bra in her hands and ran after him. "Ivan! Please, wait!" A few bartenders chuckled watching the lover's tryst; Belarus shot them a hateful glare as she passed. "Ivan!"

She burst out the front doors and swore as the burning cold of the sidewalk scorched her feet. Russia was her ride home; she didn't think he'd leave without her, but she didn't want to take the chance, nor did she want him to think she'd let him get away.

Sure enough, when she reached their car, she saw Russia waiting impatiently with both doors open. But his face told her she was far from forgiven.

"Get in the car," he said tersely. Wordless, she obeyed. He was silent as he cranked the engine on and sped out into the road, narrowly avoiding a passing car. Belarus stifled a gasp and clutched the armrest. Russia was silent as he rocketed ahead, ignoring most traffic laws.

"Brother?" Natalia asked tentatively. He didn't reply. He remained terrifyingly quiet until he pulled up to their house.

"Get out."

Belarus got out.

Russia killed the motor and got out, slamming the car door closed and striding towards the house. Belarus chased after him on uncertain legs. He left the front door open and she closed it softly behind her.

"Brother?" she prompted him again. He whirled around to face her, his face alight with fury. His hurt and grief had been amended to a blind rage that Belarus dared to hit him in such an underhand, dishonorable fashion. And it had WORKED. That was the part that really got him.

"What could you possibly have been thinking, Belarus?" he hissed. "What could have been going through your bloody dysfunctional mind when you did that?"

"Ivan? Natalia?" Belarus cursed inwardly as Ukraine appeared at the balcony over the entryway and then came jogging down the steps. "Where have you been?" she cried, tears welling in her eyes. "I thought we were going to celebrate Russia's birthday together!" Russia ignored her.

"Well?" he demanded harshly, his eyes still fixed on Belarus. She shrank under his scrutiny, but held her ground.

"I wanted to make you see," she said.

"See what? That you're completely insane? That there's nothing you won't do to get what you want?" Russia's voice escalated as he spewed venom at her. "That you're a slimy, lying little whore who would betray even those she held most dear for her own self-gain? You're pathetic, Belarus! You deserve to live a life of unrequited love!"

"No Ivan!" Belarus cried, tears stinging her eyes. "Never," she said in a ragged whisper. "Never anyone but you." She ran to embrace him, but he shoved her down and she hit the ground at his feet. She satisfied herself with wrapping her arms around his legs. "I wanted to make you see that you LOVE me," she pleaded desperately. "I wanted you to see that I love YOU. That we could be PERFECT together!"

"Well you're wrong!" Russia snarled. He kicked her away from him, not caring where his boots landed. She squeaked with pain but kept her hold until Russia managed to dislodge her. "You're just a self-deluded GIRL who's never fucking grown up enough to move on!"

"Sir-?" Latvia didn't even get his question out before Russia whipped out his pipe and struck the boy across the shoulder, knocking him to the floor. Ukraine stood motionless off to the side, watching with wide, frightened eyes. Russia was rapidly descending into a very, very black mood.

"No brother," Belarus whispered, the tears building up beyond her control and falling down her porcelain doll face, "you're wrong."

Russia looked at her in disgust, like she was the lowest thing he could imagine. The look broke Belarus's heart. She was sure she could feel his eyes cracking a great hole in her heart, splitting it down the middle and leaving her to bleed to death on the floor.

"You're revolting, Belarus," he said coldly. This was worse, ten times worse than his rage. "I won't chase you out, but I never want to speak to you again. As far as I'm concerned, you can die for all the world cares." With that, he strode from the room, shoving Ukraine out of his way as he went up the stairs. All was silent for a moment and then they heard Estonia's yelp of pain as Russia's pipe connected with his head. He came scurrying down a moment later, clutching the back of his head.

Belarus looked after her brother for a long moment, then collapsed face-first on the floor. She felt like her very will to live had been stripped from her. Ukraine moved to kneel beside her poor, broken sister.

"Bela…you should have known better," she said softly, putting her arm around Belarus's prone body. She stroked her platinum blonde hair gently.

"Get off of me!" Belarus screamed. She smacked Ukraine away from her. "You don't know anything!" She got to her feet, her head throbbing with the after-effects of last night. "You're so stupid Ukraine!" She sought for the insults she knew would wound her sister the most. "Russia doesn't want you around! Get lost! No one wants you here! All you do is cry like a baby! Go cry by yourself!" She pushed Ukraine down on the floor and then ran from the room in a flurry of rustling dress layers. The slapping sound of her bare feet on the stone and tile floor echoed around for a minute. Ukraine lay stunned on her back, fighting back tears. She knew Belarus was just acting out because she was hurt…but her words stung like a viper's bite.

"Fine then," Yekaterina whispered. "I won't try to help you!"

Back in the kitchen, Lithuania tended to Estonia and Latvia's wounds.

"Some family," he muttered, putting an icepack on Latvia's back. "Like a pack of damn beasts!"


	2. He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Two parts in one day? GASP! Hm...I'm not sure about this one, I've never done Dark! fanfiction like this. Do tell if it's getting unrealistic or something! I've been thinking hard about what's up with Ukraine...Latvia and Estonia need some problems too...child abuse is enough for Latvia, I think. We all know what Lithuania's problem is. He needs a therapist. They all do, really. But that's what makes them fun to write about!

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><p>Belarus took shelter in her room. It was on the second floor, but she preferred to take the back stairway. It was meant for servants and was all wood with none of the fantastic marble or design of the main stairway, but she liked the way the stairs creaked and rocked under her feet, as though she might crash through at any moment. It was up those steps that she scurried now, eager to avoid running into anyone. She slipped into her bedroom and shut the door, slumping down against it.<p>

Her room was elegantly furnished, but showed signs that she took poor care of it. The curtains were drawn, making it almost pitch-black save for stripes of light that edged around the curtains. Here and there a rock posted was plastered over the fine walls. Her clothes were tossed over the vanity, draped across chair backs and, when dirty, simply piled on the floor. The soft glow of her ancient computer lit up one corner of the room, her wardrobe loomed in another. The floor was cold tile, checkered light and dark marble.

Pulling on her stockings to combat the chill in the ancient room, Belarus shuffled across the floor to her bed, a twin canopy shoved up against the only wall with windows. She pulled the curtains closed around this as well and flopped down, face-first, burying her visage in her pillow. How could things had gone so terribly wrong? Just last night she'd been on Cloud Nine! Everything had been perfect?

_Is that all I deserve?_ She thought bitterly_. Is that all I've earned? One night of pleasure? One night of Russia's love?_

The injustice of it all made bile rise in her throat. Perhaps she had taken it too far; she was desperate! Desperate for Russia to look on her not with the loving gaze of a brother, but with the tender eyes of a lover! Desperate to feel his lips against hers, to be assured that he loved her the way she loved him!

Belarus rolled over, hugging her lacy pillow to her chest and staring up at her canopy. There had to be some way to fix this. She refused to concede defeat. Russia would forgive her; it would just take time. And there were things she could do to speed that along, correct? No, she wasn't out of the game yet. She would never accept Russia's loathing.

A stubborn look settled itself on her face; a look Russia and Ukraine were well acquainted with. The determination in her eyes, the stiff set of her jaw, the flat line of her eyebrows. There was no shaking her when she got this look. Her heart hardened with resolution: Russia would love her if it was the last thing she did.

But for tonight, and many nights to come, there would be nothing she could do. Russia's fits were usually brief, but were capable of spanning for days. And neither of his sister were exempt from his abuse. He was less likely to use violence with them, but the verbal barrages could be just as disarming. Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania would be on edge for the rest of the week and most likely harboring a quiet rage against Belarus for driving Russia into his dark place. _Screw them. I have my own problems._

Sometime around six she fell asleep and drifted into a restless dreamspace for several hours. At three she woke up with a growling stomach. Setting aside her blaring Walkman, she crawled out of her den. Her stockinged feet made no sound as she glided across the slippery floor and tip-toed down the stairs. As she passed the library, she saw a fire lit and froze. Peeking into the room, she saw Latvia sitting in front of it, his knees curled up to his chest, resting his head on them. She wondered what he was up to.

"Hey Latvia," she demanded in a whisper. "What are you doing?" He jumped a little and shook as he spoke.

"J-just getting w-warm, Ma'am." He hesitated. "What did you do to make Mr. Russia so mad?"

"Shut your face, you whelp!" She grabbed a nearby book and threw it at Latvia's head.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed.

Belarus turned and strode out of the room, almost forgetting her caution in anger. Skating into the kitchen on the friction-free floor, Belarus threw open the refrigerator. She carefully selected a baklava, two apples and a bottle of vodka to finish it all off. On her way out, she grabbed a chunk of cheese as well. These things she carried to their greenhouse room, where Russia grew his sunflowers. After first making sure she was alone, Belarus drew up a chair by one of the window-walls. It was colder there, but she didn't mind. Not tonight.

She crossed her legs on the chair and started in on her meal. When she finished the apples, she tossed the cores into the plant foliage, thinking maybe it'd act as some kind of fertilizer. Plants liked rotting stuff, right? _I should learn more about Russia's hobbies,_ she made a mental note.

Even thinking of Russia made her feel dolor. She snapped open the vodka and took a long draught of it. The fire burning down her throat seemed to counter the chilly numbness that Russia's rejection brought. She took another drink. The alcohol mixed with the misery in her gut and turned into a roiling pit of self-destruction. She guzzled down some more vodka.

"Feeling lonely?" a voice broke into her pity-party. She tried to spin around, but ended up nearly falling from her chair. She squinted into the darkness.

"Lithuania," she said, wrinkling her nose and scowling. "What's it to you?"

"You only drink when you're lonely," Lithuania said softly, stepping out of the shadow of the sunflowers and into the dim glow of the crescent moon.

"Pfft. As if you know me," Belarus scoffed, taking another sip. "What do you want?"

"I know you better than you think," Lithuania mumbled.

"What? Speak up, dammit!"

"What are you doing?" he said louder.

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Vodka always loosened her tongue and she felt that she was in the right mood to unleash some cursing, especially since it was only stupid Lithuania here to bother her.

"Trying to drink your loneliness away. Trying to avoid your problems." Lithuania knew this kind of blunt honesty never sat well with Belarus, but he was tired of playing games. He didn't want to watch her drink herself to death over a man who didn't love her back. Even so, he wasn't surprised when the bottle thumped him soundly in the head, followed by Belarus tackling him to the ground and delivering several fierce punches to his face. He heard a crack! that accompanied a searing pain in his nose.

"Shut up!" she screamed. "Shut up! You don't know anything! I'm not lonely! Russia loves me! He does! He's just upset and he's right! I shouldn't have drugged him. You'd never know anything about love because no girl in her right mind would ever even LOOK at you!" She slapped him across the face and he gasped with pain as his broken nose was jostled.

"No he doesn't!" Lithuania exploded, suddenly enraged with Belarus's blindness and stupidity. "He doesn't love you and he never will! Why can't you understand that? I love you! Russia doesn't!"

SNAP!

Belarus twisted Lithuania's arm until it gave a sickening crack and he shrieked. She grabbed the other one and was working on breaking that one when something stopped her.

"Lithuania?" a quiet voice rose above the noise of Belarus's abuse.

"Brother?" Lithuania hated the way her entire being perked up with just the idea of her brother's presence. Her eyes lit up, her posture straightened, her whole body tensed with excitement; it was ridiculous. And Lithuania was so jealous. But somehow…less so than he was used to. Normally it would smolder inside him like a branding mark, his loathing of her love. Tonight it was…less intense. He was so tired of this game they played, so weary of it. He loved Belarus, Belarus loved Russia, Russia loved…no one.

Russia strode forward and grabbed Belarus by the collar of her dress, throwing her bodily off of Lithuania. She hit the ground with a thump and stared at Russia. He took Lithuania's hand and pulled the man to his feet.

"Get Estonia to see to your arm," he said gruffly.

"Mr. Russia?"

"I said GO!" Russia roared, cuffing Lithuania across the ear. He left.

"Brother," Belarus whimpered, crawling to her feet. Russia's eyes passed right over her and he turned away, disappearing out the door. "Ivan! Wait!" Belarus called, her heart feeling a fresh sting like a whiplash. He had ignored her. Completely and totally. It was as if she didn't exist. Tears boiled up in her chest and rose to her eyes, blurring her vision. Angrily, she wiped them away. She made no attempt to chase after Russia; even Belarus recognized that to do so now would be foolhardy. Instead, she stole back into the kitchen and grabbed several more bottles of vodka. Back in her room, she drank herself into oblivion.

She didn't wake until well after sunrise the next morning. She stumbled into the bathroom and threw up everything she'd eaten or drunk the night before. When she was at last finished and felt like her stomach had shrunk to the size of a kidney bean, sweat beaded her forehead and her abdomen was sore from all the heaving. She rinsed the toilet out and then dropped her clothes onto the reflective floor, drawing a bath in the ornate tub. It was lukewarm, bordering on cold, but she wouldn't have it any other way. She soaked for a long time when the sound of stormy weeping interrupted her. Ukraine burst into the bathroom.

"Hey!" Belarus exclaimed, jerking back. The movement made her head spike with pain and she grabbed it, pressing her forehead against her knees.

"Sister?" Ukraine sniffled. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Belarus said through gritted teeth. "Just sick is all."

Ukraine moved slowly over to the tub and rested a hand on Belarus's back. "Let's get you out of there, hun," she said sweetly, all Belarus's insults from the previous day forgotten. She helped her sister out of the bath and wrapped her up in a fluffy towel.

"What were you crying about this time?" Belarus asked, using a harsh tone to mask any concern which might leak through.

"Oh." Something flashed across Ukraine's face which told Belarus this might be more serious than Russia eating all of her favorite cereal. "It was…it was nothing, love." She put on a horribly fake smile which Belarus saw through at once. She glared at Ukraine.

"Cut the crap. Tell me."

"I don't…" Ukraine trailed off, trying to think of a believable lie and coming up dry.

"You're a terrible liar," Belarus said.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ukraine said at last.

"Tell me."

"No." Even her refusal was shaky-Belarus could be scary! Even if she was your little sister.

"Tell me!"

"…No."

"Bitch!" Belarus slapped Ukraine's face. "There's something fucking wrong and I know it!" She grabbed her clothes from the ground and stormed out, leaving Ukraine in tears once again.


	3. All our Problems

Alright, moving right along here...the more I plot this out, the darker it gets...I'll try not to kill of too many people.

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><p>Things didn't change at the Soviet household for weeks. Ukraine was constantly in tears, Russia ignored everyone except Lithuania unless he was abusing them and Belarus brooded. Ukraine took to avoiding Belarus at all costs, who then took to seeking out Ukraine to try and weasel her secret out. In an event most unusual, her creeping was interrupted by a dinner guest.<p>

"Excuse me, Miss Belarus?" a timid voice sounded from the doorway of Belarus's room. The high stone ceiling made Latvia's voice sound tinny and small.

"What?" she snapped, looking up from her book. She grabbed a pillow and drew it over the book, hiding it from view.

"Mr. Russia told me to inform you that China is coming to dinner tonight, along with a few of his advisors," the boy stammered, his fear evident, Belarus's glare doing nothing to appease it.

"If Mr. Russia wants me to know something, he can let me know himself," she said icily.

"H-he t-t-told me to t-tell you to be r-ready by seven thirty," Latvia continued, twisting his hands until his nails dug into his flesh deep enough to cut it. Belarus growled and looked off to the side.

"You may go," she said harshly to Latvia, who scurried eagerly out of the gaze of his terrifying mistress. He couldn't for the life of him understand what it was about her that captivated Lithuania so.

Back in the ramshackle servants quarters that Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia shared, Lithuania was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, a razor in hand. He had recently shaved; the cream was still speckling his face. He reached up and tested the door to make sure it was tightly locked. Then he took one of the scarlet towels and spread it across the floor.

He had started doing this by accident. He hadn't meant to-his hand had slipped. Then he had realized the unspeakable-he enjoyed it. He FELT something like this. There was physical pain to draw his mind off of the agony caused by Belarus's hatred. He hadn't done it in a while, but today the urge struck him.

He carefully rolled up his pant leg and placed the razor against his skin, right down by the ankle. With a swift movement of his wrist, he drew the blade across sideways, a line of red following its path. He let out a sharp intake of breath, but no other sound escaped him. He watched with fascination as the blood welled up along the cut and started to drip down onto the towel.

_Perhaps abuse was the only form of love_, he thought. Russia claimed to care for him-Russia abused him more than anyone. He loved Belarus-she beat him senseless whenever she got the chance. England had told America he loved him-look what had happened there. And China and Japan…perhaps there was no kind of love without hurt. Maybe pain was love. Pain was love. Pain and pain and pain and more…always hurting, stinging, screaming, no one ever listening. All this blindness, all this hurt. Was there ever to be an escape from it all?

Lithuania leaned back, resting his head against the wall. Perhaps another cut…He looked down at his leg, crisscrossed with marks of love. Marks of his love, of the love of others…if pain was love. If it was, then he had so much love. He was loved.

He started to make a new incision, on his calf, when a knock at the door interrupted him.

"Toris? Hurry up! We need to get dinner ready for Mr. Russia and Mr. China!" Estonia said.

"Be right there!" Lithuania promised. He dabbed the cut with the towel corner and then wrapped it in gauze. He jerked his pant leg down, rinsed his face and tossed the towel in the laundry basket as he went by. Estonia watched him with nervous, flitting eyes. His hands twitched incessantly. Lithuania could tell he was jumping for another hit.

_And I complain about Russia and Belarus? As if we're any better! All of us with our secrets, no one admitting we all have them, we all have problems. What's the matter with us? _

"Where's Latvia?" he asked.

"Mr. Russia sent him to get Belarus," Estonia said.

Lithuania nodded slowly-he suddenly felt overwhelmingly exhausted. But he needed to focus now and he needed all his energy.

"We'll start without him," he told Estonia. He started out the door.

"Uh, I'll catch up with you, okay?" Estonia said, an undue amount of unease in his voice. He was shuffling his feet towards his bed and twisting his hands.

_NO! _Lithuania wanted to scream. _Not now! I need you! Goddammit Estonia! I fucking know you're on heroin! Get a GRIP! _But what he said was, "Fine. Don't be too long." With that, he left to finish up the preparations started earlier that morning, made all the more difficult by the fact that his left arm was in a cast, thanks to Belarus.

Estonia wasn't proud of his addiction. It hadn't started serious…just one hit. Just one, after a heinous beating from Russia; he had been desperate for relief from the agony, mental and physical. One hit and then he was hooked. He wanted more. More of that cloudy, indescribable feeling.

He knew he was disappointing Lithuania. But it had been too long, almost an entire day, since his last hit. He slipped the case out from under his bed and took a needle, measuring out his dose and injecting it into his arm. Blissful relief swept over him and he slumped against the bed. For several minutes he just sat there, dizzy-headed and smiling. All that confusion, all that pain…all gone. He was drifting away, far, far away on a soft cloud. No one could touch him here. The chains on his heart fell away and a sigh of relief escaped his tormented lips. He was free.

A sluggish thought pushed its way into his mind. _I need to go help Lithuania…_

"He can manage," Estonia slurred to himself. "Besides…I did the cleaning this morning…"

So he remained slumped against the bed, leaving Latvia and Lithuania to rush around and get things in order for Mr. Russia.

While Lithuania breathed curses under his breath, stirring a pot of sauce, Latvia sidled into the room. He smiled weakly and ended up looking more pained than pleased as he went to grab the baklava from the oven. A sudden clamor in the front hall told the two countries that Mr. China had arrived. Time for the circus to begin.

Belarus stomped down the steps in a nicely-arranged dress-dark blue, with white and black ruffles worn above black and white striped stockings. A white bow was tied up in her hair and she had small golden hoops through her ears. She made for the door, to give China his icy welcome, when Russia hurried down the other hallway to intercept her.

They both reached the door at the same time and had a brief struggle over the doorknob until Russia managed to body-check Belarus and swing the door open. China, having heard the doorknob battle, stared oddly at them, but quickly hitched a smile onto his face.

"Hello, Russia," he said, a slight quaver in his cheery tone. The entourage behind him craned their heads to get a glimpse inside the terrifying house of the Soviets.

"China!" Russia smiled broadly. Belarus's hands tightened into tiny fists and she dug her fingernails into her palms, focusing her hate on China. "Come in. Nice to see you, da? It's been a long time since the last world meeting!"

China and his men shuffled into the house, electing to keep their scarves and coats. _Cold, are you? _Belarus thought venomously_. I hope you freeze your manhood off! _ She stared them down as they followed Russia into the dining room. One could almost see the waves of hostility rolling off of her. She came at the end of the parade, choosing a seat two Chinamen away from Russia.

"Lithuania!" Latvia and Lithuania stumbled in, tripping on their terror, drunk on their anxiety, with trays of appetizers. They set the plates down along the center of the table, drawing their scorched fingers away with grimaces of pain. "Where's Estonia?" Russia demanded.

The two stammered nonsense for a moment before Russia dismissed them, his mind already moving on to something else.

"So, China, I've been thinking," Russia said slowly, a patronizing smile on his face as he poured himself a glass of vodka. "Vodka?"

"Yes, thank you," China accepted.

"A toast! To our prosperity," Russia said, raising his glass. Quickly the vodka bottle was passed around until everyone could raise a glass to Russia's toast. They all clinked glasses with those nearby and took a long sip. Most of the Chinese were not used to Russia's burning, acrid vodka and they broke off, choking and gasping. Russia laughed quietly to himself, watching China's face.

"As I was saying…" he continued once China and most of his men had recovered. "I think…an alliance between our countries would prove…most…useful."

"I agree," China said, nodding. Food was served by a harried Lithuania and Latvia. Now Belarus was wondering where Estonia had got to as well. Along with Ukraine. She got up and walked over to Russia.

"Brother," she whispered. No response. "Where is Yekaterina?"

"I don't know," Russia hissed back. "Now sit the hell down."

Belarus growled-this wasn't about marriage! This was about Ukraine! However, she foresaw nothing good coming from her starting an argument in front of China, so she went back to seat. Most people were silent during dinner, unless it was Russia chattering away to China, oblivious to the Asian's fear, or one of the cabinet pointing out something about China's land. In fact, China was strangely quiet, even around Russia.

"Lithuania." Russia beckoned the man over. "Go find Ukraine," he murmured. "Get her down here; we need to appear united!"

Lithuania disappeared for a long time. Long enough for the guests to start finishing up dinner. At last, Ukraine came tip-toing into the room, looking very, very sick. She sat down next to Belarus.

"What's up with you?" Belarus asked her. "You look like you're about to hurl."

Ukraine wordlessly shook her head.

"Ah, my other lovely sister," Russia said warmly. "Here, Ukraine, have some vodka." He passed her a glass. Licking her lips, Ukraine shook her head.

"I can't."

"What? Why?" Russia was on a fine line between anger and concern. It tipped to concern and both women let out a silent prayer of thanks.

"Um…I…it's a…medical condition," she managed.

"What is it?" Russia pressed. Everyone was looking at Ukraine, who looked like she was about to start crying or throw up or maybe both.

"It's…um, private," Ukraine said. Belarus inwardly rolled her eyes. Ukraine was a rotten liar. Russia rose from his seat and put a hand on Ukraine's shoulder.

"We need to talk, Ukraine. You should have told me earlier." Brotherly worry shone through, making Russia seem much more human. Belarus would have killed for that look to be directed at her. Couldn't Russia see how much she hurt? How cut up she was? Ukraine looked at Belarus, silently pleading with her. Belarus went back to primly eating her mashed potatoes.

Russia and Ukraine vanished around the corner. All was still, aside from the clinking of forks and knives and the occasional clearing of a throat. So when the sound came, everyone leaped nearly out of their seats.

"YOU'RE _WHAT?_"


	4. Circuses and Secrets

I thought about switching to Russia's POV for a bit to show you what he was thinking...then decided I'd rather leave you guessing. Seems like everyone here is in love with someone who doesn't love them back, isn't it? Like a love pentagon.

* * *

><p>Belarus decided at that moment that she needed to be a part of whatever was going on. Rising gracefully to her feet, she nodded to the Chinese and said, "Please excuse me." It came out sounding more like an in-advance "fuck off". She set her napkin down next to her plate and swept down the hall to where she saw Russia and Ukraine huddled. Ukraine was weeping stormily and Russia looked as though he'd just swallowed a grenade.<p>

"What's going on over here?" Belarus demanded, crossing her arms. "What's wrong with Ukraine?" Ukraine was crying too hard to answer and Russia's jaw was set so tightly Belarus wondered if he'd ever open it again. "Well?"

"I….I…oh!" Ukraine broke off in a fresh round of sobs.

"She. Is. Pregnant," Russia growled through gritted teeth. Ukraine gave an agonized cry and fell down to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

"What?" Belarus exclaimed. But now that she looked…Ukraine's abdomen swelled out at an odd angle, just shy of unnatural.

"I should have known better!" Ukraine hiccupped. "I'm so STUPID!" Russia knelt down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You shouldn't keep secrets like this, sister," he said, making an effort to keep his tone gentle.

Belarus snorted. _Us? Secrets? Ha! If only you knew brother, the hypocrisy you speak!_

"Who-?" Belarus's question was cut off by a fierce look from Russia. Belarus saw how he comforted Ukraine, how gentle and loving he was with her and her heart suffered another breakage. Another crack diving deep down into the tender flesh of her heart, whatever of that was left. She felt this pain as acutely as if she'd been stabbed and her heart threw up its only defense-more anger and aggression towards the world. "You'd better get back soon," she said coldly. "China and his men are waiting."

Russia glared at her one last time before straightening up and pulling Ukraine to her feet.

"Pretend, just for tonight, Ukraine. We'll deal with this later," he said. With that, he turned back towards the dining room and vanished around the corner.

"Who's the father?" Belarus snarled, grabbing the front of Ukraine's overalls and pinning her older sister against the wall. Her eyes shone with manic energy that frightened Ukraine.

"Not Russia," she said, her voice strangely steady. She knew this was all Belarus cared about. Belarus wrinkled her nose at Ukraine and turned sharply on her heel, swishing her mane of hair as she marched back towards the circus tent. Everything was normal. They were just a normal, everyday family. No secrets or odd things here. None at all. Everything was fine.

Despite the tension between the siblings, there was strange camaraderie between them as they strove to make China think that they were civilized, average countries. Silent looks between them carried boatloads of information and even more secrets.

When desert had been polished off and everyone sat stiffly, regarding those around them, Russia got up with a bright smile. He seemed to be the only one not affected by the thick atmosphere of awkward.

"Shall I give you a tour of our lovely home, China?" he offered generously.

"Ah, yes. That would be wonderful." China dipped his head politely to the two sisters and exited the room after Russia.

"Then I will go too," Belarus said one they had left. She pushed her plate away, catching up with China and Russia in the study. "Brother, can I talk to you?" Belarus asked. Russia looked to China, about to use him as an excuse, but China came unknowingly to Belarus's rescue.

"Of course," he said, giving Belarus a slight bow. "I will wait here."

So Russia strode out into the hall with Belarus on his heels. As soon as the door closed he whirled on her.

"What?" His hard eyes and volatile expression would have deterred almost anyone. Not Belarus. She stepped closer until they were inches apart and didn't move her unblinking gaze from his eyes.

"You're ignoring me," she said. "I was wrong. I admit that." The words almost stuck in her throat, but she knew it was necessary to confess and apologize if she wanted her Russia back. Even being treated as a baby sister was better than this! Russia's expression faded and Belarus mistakenly assumed he was considering her apology. He looked almost…confused. She reached out a hand to his arm. "Brother…"

He slapped her hand away, fire leaping in his eyes. "Don't touch me!" he snarled viciously. He slammed his palms into her shoulder, forcing her back and knocking her onto her rear. "I don't forgive you! What you did was horrible and selfish and…and…unforgivable! So leave me alone, Belarus. I don't want anything to do with you." And he returned to the study. He paused though, in the doorway. "Go and find Estonia, will you?" His tone was as dismissive as if she were a servant. She bristled at it, but was willing to fetch Estonia, if it put Ivan at rest.

She pattered down towards the servant's quarters, catching the sound of anxious, uncertain Chinese from the dining room. _Let them stew a bit, _she thought. Belarus moved with a quiet, lithe grace which bespoke of a deadly hand. She strode with confidence, but didn't boldly display it as America did. Hers was subtle, took a second look to see. Russia had once told her this and she'd walked on rainbows for a week. She also had an ability to move with uncanny silence.

So none of the subordinate nations heard her until she had pushed their door open. It was empty-Lithuania was bathing, Latvia was nowhere to be found but-wait…there was Estonia! Passed out there, on the floor by his bed. Belarus crossed the room and crouched beside him. She peeled back one of his eyelids. His pale eyes were bloodshot and he was dead to the world. She examined the case by his side, finding several needles, a small pouch of white powder and a bottle of clear fluid.

"What the hell?"

She couldn't immediately identify the drug, but that wasn't important. Russia needed to know about this. She rose to her feet and hurried back to the study, hoping that China and Russia were still there.

They were there alright.

Russia wasn't sure exactly how it had happened. He remembered pushing Natalia away and coming back inside. He had to; had to push her away. He and Yao had talked for a long time. China had edged closer, asked about some of the books. Russia had led him over to a shelf and pulled one of his favorites. China had listened with an enraptured expression-Russia hadn't realized how close they were. Things had been said…double-meanings…feelings…confusion…and then China's lips had been on Russia's.

How long had he dreamt of China? Of possessing China? Of having China his own; one with Mother Russia? Out of habit, out of thoughtless need, he kissed Yao back. But Yao lacked a certain fire which Russia hungered for. He was stunned to find he was…disappointed. As though he had held China on a pedestal of perfection, only to find out he was full of faults. Like his kissing.

Russia tried to draw out the flame, the passion. He pushed harder against China's lips, sliding his tongue between China's slim lips. China's hands rested on Russia's waist. Desire, a burning hunger, longing so deep it was painful filled Russia and he lost it. He grabbed China's shoulders, crushing their lips together, gnawing on China's tender lips, his breathing coming hard and fast. Yes, this was it! _More, more, more!_ Only more! He wanted more! This wasn't enough!

"Ah, Natalia!" he moaned.

China froze.

_Oh, fuck._

"Did you just say 'Natalia'?" China asked, staring at Russia with a mixture of disgust and definite distaste.

"N-no. I said…'nien'. No. Don't stop!" His lie was weak, but he locked his lips around China's before any more light could be shed on the situation.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Natalia? Fuck! Get out of my head! You're my sister! Fuck! Bitch! Whore! I hate you! Stay out! Fuck! Shit, shit, shit! What do I do?_

At that moment, Natalia reached the door, breathless from rushing up the stairs.

"Brother-!" Her tone changed at the end of the word when she saw China and Russia trapped in an embrace, looking like they were doing their best to chew off each other's lips. She let out a sharp intake of breath, her hands falling limply to her sides. China broke away, looking acutely uncomfortable, but Russia appeared completely unapologetic. Belarus didn't even glare at China-she was in a state of shock. She just stood there for several heartbeats, her eyes stinging. At length, she broke her gaze with Russia, dusted off her dress and walked back to her room, posture perfect. Nothing portrayed her inner turmoil. Once safely behind her door, she grabbed her Walkman and blared rock music into her ears. Wrapped in a cocoon of noise, she started to sob, great rolling waves of tears wracking her body. What was left? Russia was lost to her. The game was over.

_I've lost. He's gone; he belongs to China, _she thought bitterly. Her heart was so overflowing with sorrow she didn't even have room to hate China. It was her fault-she had let Russia get away. Pain stabbed through her chest, lancing through her body like a lightning strike. Her world was cracking apart, leaving nothing for her. For so long, almost everything she did had revolved around Russia, her love for Russia. While at times it had been hard to believe he'd come to adore her as she did him, she had never truly thought that he would marry someone else. The iron cable that had held her down all her life had snapped, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty, in a dim space between life and death and she was oh, so lost. She needed someone. She needed a guiding hand. But she had no one-she had always done without a companion. Russia had always been the only one for her. So she went to find her own friends.

She threw her Walkman aside, not batting an eye when it hit the stone floor and burst open. She walked as if in a dream down to the servant's quarters. Her eyes were fixed dead ahead, with no deviation. She made a beeline for Estonia's case. She took one of his needles and filled it with clear fluid. She raised the needle to her arm, but hesitated. She'd done drugs before, but this…this was clearly heady stuff. Just look at Estonia. The room was still silent. She heard a noise out in the kitchen and froze. Someone was riffling through the fridge…then something shattered…the sound of retching came to her. Probably Ukraine.

Ukraine was pregnant, Russia was making out with China upstairs, Estonia was passed out on…whatever this was and Lithuania and Latvia were nowhere to be found. Her whole life was going to hell-why bother to be healthy? She plunged the needle into her arm. A dizzy sensation came over her. Reaching into the case, she withdrew the pouch of powder and tucked it into the folds of her dress. Then she collapsed on the floor, struggling to keep her eyes open. No wonder Estonia was so zonked out! This stuff was intense…a numb, warm feeling swept over her and she giggled.

"Fuzzy-wuzzy, fizzy, dizzy…hahaha…" It felt so nice…so nice…niiiiiccceeee…everything was sooo sloowwww…she liked it this way. Much calmer. Better. Her eyes eased closed and her hand curled loosely around the syringe.

Lithuania came out of the bathroom, rubbing his short brown hair with a towel and saw both Estonia and Belarus unconscious on the floor. He quickly put on a shirt and hurried over to examine them. Both were breathing.

_Oh, Belarus! _He despaired of finding a way to comfort her, so she had turned to this. He sighed. He couldn't leave her here. He scooped her up awkwardly in his good arm, draping her over his shoulder and carried her up to her room. Normally, he would have felt an electric shock at their closeness-especially since she wasn't able to wound him. She stirred in his arms, slurring a protest in Russian which he didn't catch.

"Shh…I won't drop you," he murmured. She went limp in his arms, abandoning her weak struggle. Her head lolled over his shoulder, her platinum hair falling like a curtain. His legs screamed in protest at her added weight by the time he reached the top of the stairs. He kicked her door open and closed, crossing the room and carefully laid her on the bed.

Oh, God. She looked awful already. _She probably overdosed_, Lithuania thought. _It's her first time and no one was around to show her how much to take._ So Lithuania pulled up a chair and sat by her bedside. He was terrified that he'd suddenly cease to hear her raspy, ragged breathing.

_Oh, Belarus. Why do you do this? To you, to me. You're so destructive! Why do I love you? Can't you see? I love you the way Russia doesn't! If you could only see that…you could save us both so much hurt. So much agony._

Any excitement Lithuania might have taken from watching her sleep was lost. He wasn't sure why, but he felt detached. Cold. As if…as if his love for her was fading. He could watch her without his heart aching for her beauty, for her touch. He could notice the way her chest rose and fell without lusting for her. There was just…nothing. There was nothing left inside him. He was empty.

Once, very early in the morning, she woke and vomited over the edge of her bed before curling into a small, shivering ball. Lithuania tucked the covers around her and cleaned up the vomit-he knew he'd have to later anyway.

When she at last woke definitively, she stared at Lithuania, struggling for something stinging to say. Lithuania rose to his feet, jerking awake himself.

"You overdosed," he said flatly. "I found you passed out on my floor and brought you here. You could have died." And then he left. Belarus was still fishing for an insult when the door closed.


	5. Broken

The dining room was empty when Belarus came shuffling through it, in search of something to eat. Her hair hung in a wet mat down her back, soaked through from her cold bath that morning. She went to the fridge and took a bottle of vodka, gargling with it to rid her mouth of the revolting, metallic taste she'd woken up with. She felt strangely detached from her body, as if she were watching these things happen to someone else. She had no clear memory of Lithuania carrying her upstairs. And he had done it with a broken arm. _A broken arm I caused, _she thought guiltily. For the first time, she felt ashamed of the way she treated Lithuania.

_This is what I do, _she thought._ I don't know how to handle things; I break them and then when they don't fix themselves, I get angry and shatter the pieces into something even God himself couldn't put back together. I'm destructive. Can I love? Am I capable of love? No, I must be; I love_. _She couldn't bring herself to think his name. It was too painful. _I do…So what's wrong with me? Is there a way to love without pain? Is there true happiness in this world? Or is it all smoke and mirrors and lies? If there is, do I get to have some? Does Lithuania? Estonia? Or are we all destined to suffer? _An icy feeling accompanied the knowledge that she didn't know. There was no one she could ask; she'd have to figure it out on her own.

She looked at the clear bottle in her hand and then re-capped it and put it back in the fridge. Less than an hour later she returned for it and made for the library. Then she remembered. Of course, it was ridiculous to think that Russia and China would still be there, but part of her recoiled from the idea of opening the door. As if she might see that horrible scene again-China, kissing her beloved Russia. Russia, kissing China back! She took a delicate sip from the bottle- every inch the lady on the surface-and wandered around the house, looking for a safe place to hide. No the green room-that was Russia's territory. Not her room-she was sick of holing up in there.

On the third floor, she found a seldom used, small study which she'd forgotten about. Notebook tucked under one arm, she settled down in a chair beside a tiny, grimy window. Winter light filtered through, but the room was mostly dark. She put the bottle on an end table and took a pen from the drawer. Her hand began to write before her mind knew what she wanted to say. She just let it go, writing and shaping and creating…it was the one beautiful thing she was capable of.

Russia found her there. She had fallen asleep in the chair, her head slumped off to one side, the dim light striking her platinum blonde hair. He stood there for several moments, which felt like centuries, and watched her. Something was in her hand…that notebook. He'd seen her with it since they were kids, but she had always gotten violent with anyone who tried to so much as look at it. God forbid someone say something about it. But now she was asleep…

The temptation was too strong. Bracing his nerves, Russia crossed the room and gently, carefully removed the notebook from Belarus's slack grasp. On the open page he saw a half-finished poem.

I Look Into my Glass

I look into my glass

And view my wasting skin

And say "Would God it came to pass

My heart had shrunk as thin!"

For then I, undistressed

By hearts grown cold to me

Could lonely wait my endless rust

With equanimity

_She writes poetry?_ This was news to Russia. He had never known she wrote before…Curious, he turned the page to read another:

After Death

The curtains were half-drawn, thy floor was swept

And strewn with rushes, rosemary and may

Lay thick upon the bed which I lay

Where thro' the lattice, ivy shadows crept

He leaned above me, thinking that I slept

And could not hear him, but I heard him say

"Poor child, poor child" and as he turned away

Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept

He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold

That hid my face or take my hand in his

Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head

He did not love me living, but once dead

He pitied me; and very sweet it is

To know he is still warm tho' I am cold

"Oh…" A soft sound escaped Russia's lips. Her poems were so beautiful…and full of so much unspoken hurt. _Very sweet it is, to know he is still warm tho' I am cold…_Was that truly how she felt? Were these poems about him? Would she take comfort in his life, should anything befall her? His lavender eyes flickered up to her sleeping face, relaxed and beautiful in its repose. She looked terribly delicate in her slumber-like a doll with a face of glass.

_She is so strong,_ Russia realized. _She brims with determination. No hit can shake her from her goals; she never accepts defeat. Even through all those years of rejection, she kept swimming, kept her country afloat while dealing quietly and privately with her own broken heart. Am I wrong, to reject her? Is it cruel, to push her away?_

_ Of course it is! _answered a hateful voice inside his head._ But it's not your problem. She's crazy! Besides, you're not even capable of love! How long have you claimed to care for China? He finally kisses you and you can't even think of him! You told America you wanted Lithuania safe, but you beat him to a bloody pulp on a bi-weekly basis! You're a freak, a crazy drunkard just like everyone says!_

"I'm not!" Russia whispered out loud. He turned the page back and slid Belarus's notebook back into her hands, turning and running silently from the room.

Downstairs, Estonia ran through the halls, desperately searching for someone, anyone. He slammed into Lithuania and knocked him over.

"Oof! Watch where you're going, Estonia," Lithuania grumbled. Estonia offered him a hand and pulled the man to his feet, his eyes gleaming with terror.

"Toris! You've got to help me," he cried. "I had drink, one with my…"

"Drugs?" prompted Lithuania dully. Estonia flinched.

"..yes. Anyway, I left it on the table, but it's gone! Someone else must have gotten it!"

"What was in it?" Toris asked. "Heroin powder?" Estonia shook his head, looking sick.

"No…it was…" Estonia trailed off.

"What the hell was it?" Lithuania demanded, feeling panic flutter in his chest.

"LSD," Estonia muttered.

"What?" Lithuania yelped.

"L-" Estonia began.

"Don't say it again! What the f-hell were you doing with LSD?" he shrieked. "What could possibly have been thinking?"

"I don't know!" Estonia wailed. "I had changed my mind, I swear! I was going to dump it out, sell the rest to America, but the glass was gone and then I panicked!"

"Oh, God," Lithuania groaned, rubbing his head. "What if Latvia got it? We need to find everyone and find out who found it!" The two took off down the hall.

Belarus found Ukraine in her room, lying on her bed when she returned. The woman recoiled like an offended snake.

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded, her hackles rising. This was her place! Her private quarters! No one was allowed in here, especially not Ukraine!

"I was tired," Yekaterina simpered. "Estonia told me to lie down here."

"Well get out!" Belarus snarled.

Ukraine heaved herself dramatically off the bed and waddled over to the vanity, shooting her younger sister a less than friendly look on her way by. Ukraine had never been so angry with Belarus before; why did she always take it? _Not anymore!_

"Such a pretty necklace," she said in a honeyed voice, scooping up an ornate sapphire necklace from Belarus's jewelry box. This was going to be so sweet; she couldn't wait to see the look on Natalia's face.

"Put. That. Down," Belarus said dangerously. But Ukraine saw the fear that sprang like a spring hare in her eyes.

"I think I'd like to try it on," Ukraine said. She raised the necklace like she was going to put it on, but it slipped between her fingers and hit the stone with a cracking sound. Belarus gasped.

"Russia gave that to me!" she screamed. She started to run for it.

"Please, allow me," Ukraine said. She put her booted foot over the necklace and with a shattering noise, crushed it beneath her heel.

"No!" Belarus howled. She sprinted at Ukraine, who dodged her and hurried out the door. "You BITCH!" Belarus was unable to take her eyes from the broken up pieces of the most precious gift she'd ever received.

Belarus caught up with Ukraine at the balcony. She was practically snorting steam out of her nostrils. Ukraine's blind fury towards her sister suddenly vanished and she wanted to cry. Belarus was so angry! How could she have broken her necklace? What had she done? What was wrong with her?

"You think you're so perfect," Belarus spat, clenching her fists. "You're the nice one, the normal one. The one with huge tits. You just think you're God's fucking gift to the world, don't you?"

"No, I-" Ukraine tried to head off Natalia's rage, tears swimming in her eyes, backing up blindly towards the stairs.

"Oh, no!" Belarus laughed derisively. "Because you're humble too! But that doesn't stop you from flaunting big brother's love! Isn't it enough that you're the favorite? You have to go and ruin my relationship with him too? Well congratulations! He hates me! You win!"

Yekaterina felt sick. She was riding on an emotional rollercoaster. Just as quickly as it had disappeared, the fury returned and she felt like she could throttle Natalia.

"You deserve to be hated! No one wants you around, Natalia! All the other countries laugh at you; they know you're insane!" She hurled insults at her sister, shocking Belarus with her spite. "You're in love with your BROTHER. What kind of sicko does that? Well, news flash, Russia is bloody terrified of you! He can't stand to even look at you!"

"Shut up!" Belarus screeched. She dove and Ukraine, knocking her sister backwards. Ukraine screamed and tumbled backwards down the stairs. Her howl of pain echoed throughout the Soviet house, bringing everyone running from all corners of the house. Belarus hit the steps, her chin banging into the second step. Pain exploded in her jaw and blood spurted over the steps. Belarus lay at the top of the stairs, panting. Ukraine lay in an unmoving heap at the base.

Estonia and Lithuania, flushed and breathing heavily, burst into the scene first.

"Oh, no," Lithuania whispered. "We were too late…"

Latvia crept out from the opposite side, his eyes widening to dinner plate size when they landed on Yekaterina's crumpled form. Russia came last, racing down from his room, shoving Belarus out of the way and throwing himself down at Ukraine's side.

"Yekaterina!" he cried, shaking her shoulder. Everyone waited, tense and stiff; a soft moan escaped Ukraine's mouth. "You're alive!" Russia gathered her into his arms and held on to her. She cried out in pain.

"My baby…" she whimpered.

"Estonia! Get the car," Russia snapped. "We need to get her to the hospital!" He slung Ukraine into his arms, bridal-style. As he turned to follow Estonia, he shot Belarus a glare so venomous she stumbled backwards, her throat closing up. Lithuania handed her a towel to press against her chin and, meekly, she trailed after her siblings.

"How did this happen?" Russia started in on her as soon as they got in the car. "What the fuck did you do, Natalia?"

Belarus tried to speak, but no words would come. Ukraine was still semi-conscious, moan of pain coming from her parted lips. She felt cold-she hadn't really meant to hurt her sister.

_Yes you did, _a voice in her head said. _You wanted to hurt her. You wanted to rake your fingernails across her flesh, feel her blood run through your fingers. You wanted to KILL her. _

"No I didn't!" Belarus shrieked, covering her ears. Tears swelled up inside her and she began to weep in her corner of the car as Estonia sped towards the hospital, guilt pooling in his gut.

_This is what you've done. You caused this. You and your fucking addiction._

_I have to stop, _Estonia thought. But the resolution sounded weak, even to him.

Russia's immediate rant in the hospital got Ukraine into the emergency room. Belarus was escorted to another operating room where she got stitches for the cut in her chin. When she was released, her mouth numb and sore with anesthetics, she winded her way through the hospital to Ukraine's room and sat outside next to Estonia. Hours passed, Russia pacing around outside, Estonia fidgeting in his seat, Belarus sitting as still as statue. The tension was thick enough to cut. Russia threw hateful looks at Belarus, but she wouldn't look at him. She kept her eyes fixed dead ahead, not moving for anything.

Night had fallen when the doctor came out, looking solemn.

"The baby had to be saved," the doctor began. "The mother demanded we save the child. But we could not save both."

Russia closed his eyes.

"My sister is dead?" he asked.

"Yes," the doctor confirmed. "But boy lives."

"May I see the child?" His tone held nothing but a crushing sorrow for his sister now. The doctor nodded. Russia pushed open Ukraine's door and Belarus tried to follow. Russia spun around, caught her arm and threw her to the floor. "You did this," he hissed. "You killed her. Get the fuck out. And stay away from us!"

Belarus sat there, tears blossoming on her face once more. The worst part was that she had no counter to Russia's words. They were true. She had killed her sister.

* * *

><p>So, things take a pretty dark turn here. Will they recover? Is it possible for there to be happiness in the Soviet household?<p>

The poems are not mine, BTW. I've love to be able to write that way, but I can't.


	6. Death and Redemption

_**STOP! READ THIS FIRST! **_Now that I've got your attention...I made a MAJOR faux pas in my last chapter! I had this all planned out and totally messed it up! So I must ask you to go back and re-read the end of ch.5 otherwise this won't make sense! That's all.

* * *

><p>Russia shut the door tightly behind him, leaving Belarus on the floor. She swallowed her tears, a lump forming in her throat, and picked herself up. She wandered down the halls, occasionally dodging a platoon of nurses or a gurney being wheeled speedily through the hospital. She found a bathroom and went in, splashing cool water on her face. Feeling was starting to return to her chin and the water stung. She looked up into the mirror, drops of water sliding down her face, mimicking the tears her heart was crying. The stitches stuck out, thick and black, against her pale skin.<p>

_I look like Frankenstein, _she thought. And the thought, for some reason, almost made her laugh. Frankenstein. Her. Ha. She touched the black thread lightly, running her index finger across them.

"How strange," she murmured. She couldn't put her finger on what exactly was strange about it, but it felt strange. She felt strange. Hollow; empty. Lost.

Drifting back out into the halls, she took a seat in the waiting room. She didn't know what she was waiting for, but she was certain she was waiting. For something. She watched family members and patients come and go. She watched weeping mothers, praying mothers, sobbing wives, pacing husbands, nervous sisters and thankful brothers. She saw families who cheered for the recovery of their loved one, she saw families who fell to their knees in tears for the loss of their loved one.

_Who decided? _She wondered_. _Who or what chose those lucky ones who got to walk out in tears of joy versus the ones who were cold and lifeless, covered with a sheet and wheeled out the back door? Who had chosen the fate of Ukraine? Had it always been her fate? Would she have died no matter what, or did she, Belarus, intervene and truly kill her?

At one point, she saw a priest walk by and she almost ran up to him and asked. She had half-risen from her chair to go to him, but something stopped her. The throbbing guilt in her chest that told her she didn't deserve forgiveness, didn't deserve answers. She was to be forever in the dark and be forced to blunder her way through life, bumping and bruising herself, never quite sure what her path was.

She sat in that chair until night fell. She saw Russia walk by with Estonia, but they didn't see her. Now it was safe.

_This is what I was waiting for. To see my sister. To tell her…I'm sorry._

Dropping the melancholy uncertainty with which she had moved all day, Belarus strode purposefully through the E.R., quickly finding her way to Ukraine's room. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked in.

Ukraine was covered with a sheet. An IV was still strapped to her arm. The room was unnaturally clean, but an unmistakable, metallic odor of blood lingered. She looked so much smaller.

"Sister," Belarus said. The word carried so much of what she felt, about everything. About their relationship.

Belarus crossed the room like an Otherworldly being. Her toes seemed to barely skim the ground and she moved so slowly as to appear like she was sleepwalking. She stood next to Ukraine's bed for a moment, drew back the sheet and looked into her sister's eyes. A paper bracelet was wrapped around Ukraine's wrist and she wore the traditional hospital gown. On the table lay Ukraine's cellphone. Belarus picked it up, to have something to hold in her hand.

"I'm sorry," Belarus whispered. "I never meant to…to hurt you. Not like that. I was…so angry. I wanted you to feel as bad as I did. I wanted…Oh, God, I don't know what I wanted!" she cried.

Ukraine's dull, lifeless eyes seemed to mock her from beyond the grave.

_You did this, _they seemed to say. _This is your fault. You'll live with it forever._

"So I wanted to hurt you! That doesn't make me a freak! I didn't mean to kill you!" Belarus yelled. She stormed out of the hospital room and out into the street. Wiping tears from her eyes, she stared down the street, not even caring where she went-she just wanted to get away from everything. She felt sick with her guilt and horror; over and over she saw Ukraine tumble down the stairs, saw the look of terrible fear on Ivan's face, felt her chin slam into the steps. How could things have gone so wrong, so fast?

_It wasn't just then, _she thought. It's been always. Nothing has ever been right in the Soviet household; there were always secrets harbored, factions changing and constant abuse delivered. Tension had been rising in the house for years-it was just now breaking and they were all reaping the consequences.

_If we had only been open…if we hadn't kept so many secrets, so many bad habits…if there hadn't been so much hurt…_Belarus rubbed her arms; the Russian winter air chilled her to the bone; she had forgotten a jacket or scarf in her haste to follow Russia and Ukraine into the car. She realized she was still holding Ukraine's cellphone. She slipped it into the folds of her dress and her hand bumped against something else-the packet of heroin powder she'd taken from Estonia.

Her head was spinning with loneliness-she knew she couldn't return home. No one wanted her there. All the other nations were afraid or disgusted by her. Why bother to take care of herself? She was destined to die alone; why not speed it along?

Ducking into an alleyway, she spread the powder across her forearm and snorted it up. Relief-that was what she needed. What else could she hope for?

Back at the house, Russia was brooding in the library when Estonia and Lithuania shuffled in.

"Um, excuse me? Mr. Russia?" Lithuania squeaked.

"Yes?" Russia asked calmly.

"We have to tell you something." Lithuania and Estonia knew it was entirely possible this would end badly for them-but Estonia had a roiling pit of guilt in his stomach about what had happened to Ukraine and Lithuania couldn't stand for Belarus to be banished from the house for something that wasn't entirely her fault.

"Yes?" Russia repeated.

"It's about Miss Ukraine," Estonia broke in. Russia beckoned them over and they stood stiffly in front of him. "The accident…what happened…she provoked Miss Belarus!"

"I find that hard to believe," Russia said coolly. "Belarus has been known to act out and violently for no real reason. Ukraine would never provoke her."

"But she wasn't herself," Estonia pleaded. "She got into some…some drugs."

Russia's interest piqued. "Drugs?" he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. Lithuania nodded and Estonia continued with difficulty.

"I was…holding some…LSD powder for America…and I…decided to try some…I put it in a glass of water and left it on the table…I left to go clean up some dishes for dinner...and when I came back it was gone!"

"You are telling me my sister got into YOUR LSD?" Russia asked, deadly calm in his voice. Estonia nodded weakly.

"It can cause severe mood swings…"

"I went into Nat-Miss Belarus's room. I think Miss Ukraine smashed Miss Belarus's sapphire necklace," Lithuania interrupted.

"The one you gave her," Estonia added.

"They got into a fight after that…both of them said some very bad things…" Lithuania went on. "Miss Ukraine…she said that you hated Miss Belarus and didn't want her around. She said you were frightened of her and thought she was a freak. That's when Miss Belarus knocked Miss Ukraine down the stairs. I don't think she meant to, though. She wasn't thinking clearly-the night before she…she overdosed on heroine," he managed to choke out.

"Overdosed? Heroin? Since when has Natalia been doing heroin?" Russia demanded.

"Since last night," Estonia mumbled.

"Was that yours too?" Russia growled, rising to his feet. He towered over the other men. Estonia nodded frantically.

"Why didn't anyone tell me my fucking baby sister overdosed?" Russia roared. "Goddammit! How long have you two been holding drugs? Does anyone even know where she is?"

"About a year," Estonia stammered, shrinking back as Lithuania shook his head.

"Um…excuse me?" Latvia popped into the room. "America called…he says that-"

That was when Russia snapped. He withdrew his water pipe and went completely berserk, hitting anything or anyone that came into his path. Within minutes all three of the Baltic Nations were on their knees, spewing blood and trying to protect their faces. Russia hit tables, bookshelves, windows…glass and wood splinters flew through the air. Lativa's sobbing echoed throughout the room. At one point, Lithuania too was in tears and was screaming for Russia to stop, to get a grip! But he didn't.

He strode from the room and after several minutes, the sound of a door slamming was heard. They all stayed still, as though held captive under a spell. Lithuania broke it first, crawling over to the weeping Latvia.

"Latvia? Are you okay?" The boy was curled into a fetal position. Lithuania tried to roll him over, but he screamed in pain. "Where does it hurt?" Lithuania cried.

"My chest," he whimpered.

Lithuania probed around, trying to find the source of injury. Latvia cried out, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

"I think your collarbone is broken," he said at last. He turned to Estonia, who was bleeding from a cut above his eye, along with several on his arms. Bruises blossomed across his face. "We need to get Latvia to the hospital."

Estonia nodded. He walked over and scooped Latvia into his arms.

"You stay here, Lithuania," he said. "In case Mr. Russia needs something." The idea made Lithuania feel nauseated, but he nodded.

_I should check Ukraine's messages, _Belarus thought absently. She flipped open the cellphone and found a message Ukraine had sent to an unknown location. She had sent it nearly six months ago.

_Prussia? Prussia, please pick up! It's Yekaterina! I have to tell you something…_

A month after that was another one:

_Gilbert? Please! We really need to talk!_

Two weeks later:

_Gilbert, I'm pregnant! Please come pick me up! Belarus and Russia are acting so strange! I need to get away…_

_Prussia…that's the father of her baby. Prussia. That son of a bitch. _Belarus got to her feet, dusting the dirt from the alley off of her backside. She knew what she had to do-she had to avenge her sister. It was the only thing she could do to try and clear her name of Ukraine's death. She wandered down through China, towards Europe. While she was there, she thought dimly to pay a visit to China. She'd like some tea; thirst gnawed at the back of her throat. So she stopped by Beijing and rang the bell at China's house.

There was instant chaos inside. She heard China's voice through the open window.

"Who is it?"

"It's Russia's little sister!" announced one of the officials.

"Aiya! Tell her I'm not here!" China cried, panicked.

"Where should I say you are?" the official asked.

"Anywhere! Make something up!"

Belarus had already wandered off. She found Prussia where she expected-lingering on Austria's boarder.

"Hey Prussia!" she slurred. "I want to talk to you."

He turned towards her, his trademark arrogant look on his face. "What? Russia's baby sister want to finally get a real man?"

Hatred flared in Belarus's chest.

"You killed my sister," she accused.

"Pfft. I didn't kill her. The crazy woman knew what she was getting into," Prussia asserted.

"You can't get away with it." Belarus ignored him. She drew her only weapon-a stubby knife more suited to coring apples than fighting.

"Ohohoho, you want to fight, little sister?" Prussia chortled. "Alright. Let's go." He drew his long sword, his red eyes gleaming.

Wind blew through the open field, rustling the surrounding trees. Belarus looked into Prussia's eyes and knew she would die. She didn't care. At least people could say she died getting revenge for her poor, deceased sister. She gave a piercing battle scream and charged Prussia.

When Russia finally found her, he came onto Prussia standing over Belarus's unmoving form. His heart wailed in agony. Surely he was not to lose two sisters in the space of two days!

"Prussia!" he bellowed. "Get away from her!" He whipped out his water pipe. "Don't touch her!" He ran at Gilbert and swung the pipe, nearly clocking him in the head. Prussia snorted.

"Dude, I was doing you a favor! You won't have to worry about her being a freaking stalker anymore!" he said.

"Don't you talk about my sister like that!" Russia snarled. "Get lost or I'll fucking kill you, you bastard!"

"You guys are fucking insane," Prussia said, shaking his head. "Take her, man. This ain't worth it." And he sheathed his sword, walking off to stalk Austria.

Russia fell on his knees beside Belarus, throwing his pipe down.

"Natalia! Natalia!" he cried, shaking her shoulder. He rolled her over onto her back. She looked like a nightmare. Her face was mottled with cuts and bruises, blood seeping from her hairline. Several of her fingers were broken off at odd angles and one of her legs was mangled. Blood stained her dress and her ribbon had been torn from her hair. Her eyes were closed, one swollen shut with a black eye. Her chest just barely rose and fell.

"I…van?" she rasped, each word taking all her effort.

"Natalia!" Tears stung Russia's eyes. "Oh, God. I'm sorry Natalia," he whispered. "I…"

"You found me." She didn't smile, but her eyes did. Her Russia had come to her. Even though he loathed her, he had come to her rescue.

"Estonia and Lithuania told me what happened!" Russia said. "It wasn't…You didn't mean to kill Ukraine. It was an accident. I shouldn't have blamed you; I'm so sorry." He bent his head over her body, weeping.

"Shh…" Belarus raised one hand weakly to brush Ivan's cheek. "I forgive you."

"Oh, Belarus." Russia took his sister's hand tightly in his own paw. "I'm sorry for everything," he said softly. "I was angry with you…but I was also angry with myself. Because I…I couldn't stop thinking about that night. I…" He swallowed hard and continued with difficulty. "I lusted for you," he confessed in a barely audible voice. "My sister. It felt so…wrong. I wanted to blame you, for opening my mind up to this. I wanted to hurt you, for causing me confusion. I thought that if I pushed you away hard enough, that I could change the way I felt. I'm sorry. You can't die! You know Ukraine's baby lived, don't you? His name is Tamin. You have to come back, so he can know his aunt," Russia begged, his voice cracking. "We can raise him together-for her." He swallowed hard. "You'd do that, wouldn't you?"

"I forgive you, brother," Belarus said quietly. "Because I love you, I forgive you." Her breathing was ragged and harsh; each breath drained her more and speaking made her dizzy.

"I love you too, Natalia," Russia whispered to her. He lowered his face to hers, but she reached up and put two fingers up to his lips, holding him back.

"I want to see your face when I die," she replied. She gazed deeply into his eyes and her heart swelled with his grief. He loved her. Russia loved her. When Natalia's eyes flickered shut, she was smiling.


	7. Counting Losses

Ha! You didn't really think I was going to end it there, did you? (Actually, I thought about it XD) This is a short chapter, but it's one of the last, so I decided to draw the rest out for all I can. Enjoy and please review! Kudos to LucyMoon1992 for being my best reviewer! She's the best!

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><p>It had taken Russia three hours to track Belarus down once he realized she was missing. He had gathered up Lithuania and Estonia from the hospital where they'd taken Latvia, along with calling up China, getting them all to fan out to find his sister. It was Estonia who'd found the first clue-wandering down the street from the hospital, he'd caught sight of something out of place in an alley-Ukraine's phone, which, by some extraordinary luck, Belarus had dropped. Checking the messages, Estonia guessed where she'd gone and promptly called Russia, who'd rushed down to Austria to hunt down Prussia. He'd been in a complete panic the whole time-with Belarus possibly on drugs, drunk on grief and guilt over Ukraine and blistering with fury towards Prussia, anything could happen to her.<p>

As he sprinted from place to place, desperate for a clue, to catch Belarus before she did something truly foolish, he'd been sending up silent prayers. _Please, oh please let her be okay! I'll go to church every Sunday and never hit her again! Just let me find her alive and in one piece! I'll never shun her again-I never really hated her! Please, please, please let her be okay!_

At one point, he vaguely remembered promising to forswear vodka in return for Belarus's safety. Nothing was too great a price to pay to make sure he got to see her again-and apologize. He still burned with rage against the Baltics, but it was swept away in a river of anxiety over Belarus.

When he'd at last found her, she was alive-but barely.

Her eyes closed and Russia nearly screamed. He wasn't going to lose her-he hadn't gone through all this, hadn't suffered her affection since childhood, seen her through dozens of wars, fought off anyone who tried to harm her and at last trailed her here to lost her now. He scooped her up into his arms, her body completely limp, and carried her to the nearest hospital, just inside a small Austrian town.

The doctors had immediately set about babbling in Austrian and bustling to work. Russia had been escorted to the waiting room to pace and see if Belarus would live. Hours passed. The image of Ukraine's lifeless body affixed itself in Russia's mind, refusing to release itself and tormented his consciousness as Belarus lay, equally as helpless as Ukraine had been, dozens of yards away. He made a brief call to the Baltics to let them know what had happened and where they were before resuming his pacing.

_Where was she now?_ He wondered. If she wasn't dead, and she wasn't quite alive, was she floating in some place in between? The idea made hysteria rise in his chest. What if she needed someone to call her back? Shouldn't he be there? If anyone could call Belarus's soul back from whatever dark place it now resided, wouldn't it be Ivan?

At last, the doctor had gestured him in. The language barrier proved most anxiety-inducing, as the doctor's stone face gave nothing away. Russia pushed past him into the hospital room.

Belarus looked like a tiny doll in her hospital bed. A good deal of her long, flowing hair had been sheared off, so it came just down to her shoulders. This struck him for some reason-Belarus's hair was her one vanity and he grieved for its loss, as she was in no place to do so. He knew she would mourn it quietly, as she always did. Her suffering was forever born in silence. Her eyes were closed, her battered body almost as pale as the sheets. An IV dripped steadily into her arm.

"Talia?" he asked softly, drawing his knuckles across her cheek. He hadn't called her that since he was a child. He felt that way now-weak, powerless and afraid. So very afraid.

Natalia made a small sound in her slumber, stirring briefly.

"Спасибо,*" Russia gasped, falling to his knees and clasping one of her small hands between both of his. "You're alive!" He pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and stayed still in that position for several minutes. His precious Natalia was alive. There was a God in the sky after all.

There came amidst Ivan's thoughtless relief, a knock on the door.

"Russia?" the accented, slightly snooty voice sounded familiar. "It's Austria. May I come in?"

Russia carefully laid Belarus's hand across her chest and straightened up. "Da."

Austria pushed the door open and regarded the scene through a cursory glance. "I heard what happened," he said curtly. "My doctors told me of Belarus's injuries. I understand they haven't told you of their extent."

"Is something wrong with her?" Russia asked, fear gripping his heart and seeping into his voice.

Austria looked as if he were struggling with how to phrase what he had to say next. At last, he decided blunt honesty was the best policy here. "Her left leg had to be amputated," he said at last. "I've got them working on a prosthetic right now."

"Kolkolkolkol…I'm going to KILL Prussia," Russia growled, clenching his fists. He recalled all the times he'd admired Natalia's grace as she danced down the halls, tiptoed across the snow, ran down the stairs, or even just the way she balanced on one foot to reach things too high for her. Would she ever be able to do any of those things again? He didn't see how she would.

"You can't!" Austria exclaimed. "The last thing we need around here is more war…besides, Prussia says Belarus initiated the fighting."

Russia groaned. Somehow that wasn't so hard to believe.

"Besides," Austria continued in a softer tone. "She's alive. Isn't that the important thing?" Out of nowhere, Canon in D began to play. Austria reached into his pocket and checked his phone. "That's Hungary. I have to go. And Russia?" he said as he exited. "They say she was asking for you when she woke."

The door swung shut and Russia was left alone with his broken sister, wondering if anything would ever be alright again.

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><p>*Thank God<p> 


	8. Epilogue

"Auntie! Auntie! Read me a story!" A little boy with a head full of bouncy copper curls ran through the house.

Belarus, sitting in her armchair in the living room, writing in her notebook, looked up.

"Alright, Tamin," she said. She set her notebook aside and let the boy scramble into her lap. He smiled and handed her the book, from which she began to read. Tamin was the only one in the world for whom Belarus nursed a soft spot, aside from Russia. She even altered her voice a bit for the different characters. He was a slow growing country; he was approximately the human age of three. Tamin listened attentively, his gray blue eyes fixed on some spot in the distance as he visualized the story. Belarus had an unexpectedly melodious voice when she was reading, be it prose or poetry.

A hand brushed against her cheek from behind and a soft pair of lips pressed against her temple.

"I love it when you read, Любовь моя*," Russia murmured, smiling.

Belarus merely smiled and kept on reading. She fluttered a kiss across Russia's hand as he drew it across her face. His hand traced a path down her arm, towards her wrist, rubbing his thumb across the scars there. He knew she cut; it was a habit she had begun after Ukraine's death. He never said anything about it, but whenever he saw new cuts (Which was every time. Honestly, nothing Natalia did slipped passed him!), he would kiss them and hope that one day the guilt that drove her to do it would release her from its cruel grip.

The latest ones were scabbing over, so Russia kept his touch light so as to not tear them open. Tamin had asked both of them about Auntie's cuts. Belarus didn't respond at all, and Russia quietly told him Auntie had some hurts inside that made her hurt herself. Afterwards, Tamin was very sensitive about Belarus's "issues", even though he couldn't comprehend what they were. He knew it had something to do with why his Mommy wasn't around.

Despite his silent prayer, Russia had not forsworn vodka. He drank as much as ever, though he never laid a hand on Tamin. He knew Belarus wasn't the most loving woman in the world, but she defended her sister's boy like a dragon. She'd caught England trying to lure the kid over to the UK and had beaten him senseless.

After she finished the story, she took Tamin upstairs and put him to bed.

"Good night, Tamin," she said, kissing his forehead.

"Nighty-night Auntie," Tamin yawned. Belarus patted his curly head and left, shutting the door quietly. She padded back downstairs to the living room. A year and a bit of walking with the prosthetic had given her almost all her control back. She would never again possess the even, smooth grace she had before, but she was alive, and both she and Russia thanked God for that every day.

Russia was seated on the couch, a glass of vodka in one hand. Belarus settled down beside him and he handed her her own glass.

"Cheers," he whispered. They clinked glasses and drank. He slung an arm around her shoulder and drew her into the curve of his body. Natalia was on her own cloud of bliss as she rested her head against Ivan's chest. No matter how long it had been since they had joined in marriage (At last!), Ivan never failed to thrill her. His touch still made her melt with pleasure, his looks still made her weak in the knees, his voice still sent shivers down her spine. And yet, she felt so much stronger. She had faced death alone, been prepared for it. She had denied Russia the kiss she long sought after. She was strong enough to deserve this.

As for Russia, once he got over the weirdness of marrying his sister (Which actually didn't take that long. What was he worried about anyway? That Romano or Austria would make a snide incest comment? Let him. Russia would kick his ass.), he found a new delight in her every day. Right now, for example, he marveled at the way her hair fell over her shoulders. Like so many other things about her, it was very graceful and elegant.

"I love you so much." He spoke with his mouth against her ear, as if the words were only for her to hear. Hearing this from him still made her want to weep with joy; the first time she'd been sure she was still delirious from her injuries and had heard wrong. This was her salvation, she was sure. This was her reward for suffering through all those years of General Winter's torment. This was her slice of heaven on Earth to help her slog through the rest. And this was all she needed.

"I love you too," Belarus replied.

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><p>And that's a wrap! A surprisingly happy ending for Natalia and Ivan! But don't think it's all good-They're both still crazy. Russia still beats the piss out of the Baltics. Belarus cuts. She isn't the most loving mother to Tamin. But they're working on it and they're happy. I suppose that's all you can hope for, da?<p> 


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